


Draíocht

by Vanja86



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types, His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Daemons, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Crossover, Daemons, F/M, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, darcy lewis is a witch, soulmark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 18:25:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 11,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12114570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanja86/pseuds/Vanja86
Summary: A story in which Darcy has a very bad day by way of  Loki resulting in unexpected but fateful meeting.





	1. Chapter 1

Coming back to consciousness with a jagged frown and a soft moan Darcy pressed her throbbing cheek to the snow welcoming it’s numbing effect and breaking million and one rules of recommended behaviour during a traumatic incident on a winter day. She didn’t care. Jane would say it was hypothermia taking her in it’s grip tempering with her self preservation instinct but she knew better. In spite of the bare feet and the generous patches of skin uncovered by the silk dress she didn’t feel the cold.

_ No, that’s not accurate,  _ she amended rising up, her hands splayed for balance while she breathed heavily waiting for the dizziness to pass. She felt coldness but it didn’t affect her much, it was a small irritant, a minor unpleasantry at most and nothing to be concerned over. 

Smelling crisp air that tugged at the fond memories of childhood past, she surveyed area with a blank look. Rugged trunks stoically endured the lashing wind while the ephemeral flakes piled on top of drifts and mounds, the branches creaking under the heavy load. 

Wiping the thin film of snow from the gnarled branch, she gripped the large knob finding its presence reassuring. Supporting her weight between a tree and the hard wood darkened with time that she used more like a cane now, she stood on wobbly legs.  _ Uff, the difficult part is done,  _ she exhaled taking the first step, lip pressed down with her teeth. 

_ Fucking Loki and his fucking reflexes with his fucking magic,  _ Darcy recited in her head as she carried on, painfully, one step at a time. Of course smashing her body into a concrete building, face first was his idea of a prime time but then he wasn’t a stellar citizen of Earth... of any realm, she amended running her tongue over chapped lips. Then the things got hazy, she might have suffered a concussion or simply was confused but it seemed like he smiled in glee, positively oozing it while he carved reality with single minded intensity opening some kind of a rip or a rift and for a second there was a cold breeze and a sharp light in otherwise balmy spring. He has thrown her into the tear with embarrassing ease, her mind still too much out of it to order any struggle and then she was falling. Going down like a rock sinking to the bottom of the lake. Except instead of silky water and a soft bed she plummeted through the cutting air to the meeting with hard ground.

Forcing her fingers to unclench she looked at the cloud pine with renewed appreciation.  _ Thank all the ancestresses I didn’t lose you when I was being mauled by the green loving maniac!  _ She was long lived, almost immortal but even she wouldn’t survive such a drop. 

Senses gradually returning she noticed the tightness coiling inside. It squeezed, demanded even to go, to move. Where? She wasn’t quite sure but she followed without breaking her step mindful of her grandma warning that to ignore such a feeling, a soothsayer or not, was asking for trouble. 

It wasn’t long before she arrived to her destination.  _ Of course,  _ her shoulders dropped in relief when she caught the motley spot of blues moving in the snow in uncharacteristic slugginess. A mess.  _ Just like her,  _ she smiled affectionately, warmness spilling inside. Invigorated by the vision of the bird which clumsily straightened ruffled feathers, her bounce froze mid air when a squeal of surprise reached her. 

“What’s that?” a boy who was too big to a be a child but too young to be a teenager asked pointing at the wriggling explosion of tropical colours. Looking back he hopped from foot to foot waiting for the man who followed at a sluggish pace. Too impatient to stay still he sprang forward waddling through the snow.  Cutting across the undisturbed surface he left in his wake a messy trail. 

“It’s a parrot!” he run back, cheeks flushed in excitement “What do you think happened? Do you think it’s hurt? Should we help?” he fired rapidly circling the tall figure whose roaming mien didn’t outwardly change and yet Darcy had an impression it turned into a stride.  _ Odd _ . He was proceeding forward, hands stuffed in the pockets and back slightly curved but the glint in the ice blue eyes suggested he wasn't as harmless as he’d like the world to believe. 

“Do you think it will allow to be caught?” the boy tiptoed closer, squatting down at what he deemed was a safe distance. Chin propped on hands he unblinking gazed at the baby blue head bending at an awkward angle “I don’t want it to die.” he whispered without turning back. 

The man paused next to the crouched figure, eyeing the scene skeptically for no bird of that colour belonged to New Jersey winter. 

Wait!  _ What’s wrong with this picture?  _ Darcy edged closer hidden by the instinctive ability to go unnoticed. While it wasn’t the true power of invisibility that Loki was so fond of using it served her people well over the years saving hundreds of witches from harm, prosecution or simply a jealous wife. Confident in its infallibility she observed the pair with arms crossed. The male who was turning his head, brows furrowed as if wondering who was making the crunching sound.  _ Pfff, no one can hear that,  _ she scoffed at the ridiculous impression turning her attention to the smaller human, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to touch the bird that was not - 

**_Oh no..._ ** Her head whipped back.  _ No daemons. _ Eyes widening in alarm, her gaze jumped between the two, the full force of the revelation staggering in its many implications. Pushing the racing chaos to the back of her head, she focused on the immediate threat following the ginger moves with a new sense of panic. 

No daemons... which meant the youth didn't know it was one, thinking it an ordinary bird. Lost, cold and in need of help but just a bird and in need of rescuing.  _ He can’t touch it. _

Flooded with adrenaline, she run the opposite way summoning heavy clouds pregnant with snowflakes. A slight nudge in the right direction and they started to fall liberally, the amount and frequency increasing by the second. 

_ Diversion now.  _ She thumped a branch upsetting a drift that fell with a heavy thud distracting the pair that was now looking at where the noise has come from.  _ Too late. She wasn’t there anymore,  _ she half smiled in satisfaction. 

Coming at the man from the side, she knocked him over with a well placed blow to the back of the legs sacrificing invisibility in the process. “What the -” she killed the surprised exclamation with the jab to the chest that pushed him down faster. He tried to grab at her but she was already rushing away “Daithi, fly away!” a desperate note cut through the increasing wind that was snagging at clothes. The storm brewed into a localised blizzard that was attacking the humans vehemently. Crawling on all fours Bruce lost her from his line of sight for a second and when he looked up the parrot and the girl were gone. 

Turning around he dug Dick out. Beating at the jacket to remove excessive snow he took him by the shoulders looking into the boys dazed eyes “Are you hurt?”

Mutedly shaking his head he asked instead “What was that?”

Pressing mouth into a grim line Bruce didn’t respond.  _ He didn’t know…  _ **_yet._ **


	2. Chapter 2

Gripping the gnarled branch tightly Darcy glanced behind driven by the prickling that settled between her shoulderblades in the most unpleasant way but no matter how many times she assured herself there was no chance of pursue while she was flying high and fast, nigh invisible she could not rid herself of the ice cold eyes that haunted her still. Piercing like a gaze of a grey wolf, a terrible predator, untamed, unencumbered and wholly terrifying. On top of that she was also unsettled by the cutting intelligence burning in those eyes as if he was a wolf daemon rather than a common animal.

Maybe in a world where daemons were not present at their humans sides this was how they expressed themselves; shining through their human's eyes in an unguarded moment that offered insight into their true nature, her confused mind suggested.

Considering the idea for a moment, she agreed it had some merit however there were other options to examine. This world Magisterium could have succeed in its missions to forcefully separate humans and daemons, same as they attempted many years ago in her world. She tried to consider the abhorrent idea in a cool manner but the growing bile prevented it. No…  _ just no.  _ That kind of world would be too cruel, too abominable to exist. The man could have been a male witch… She turned this idea over in her head. While interesting and alluring for a variety of reasons, some completely inappropriate, it didn’t explain the youth. The boy was not yet mature enough to go through the coming - of - age ritual. No, his daemon should be very close.

They might not have daemons but the man certainly had a wolf looking through his eyes and for that she decided to avoid him like a plague. Mind made up she distanced herself further vowing she will return at night, when the moon and the stars will lit her search for the portal and the chance of meeting him again was none to slim. 


	3. Chapter 3

Tucking the ends of the black scarf under Bruce slipped on a pair of leather gloves before exiting the warm confines of his family ancestral seat. Greeted by the vicious wind that hit him hard in the face he looked at the sky assessing the round moon that bathed the land in silverlight.  _ That will do.  _ He declared internally veering towards the narrow trail that was easily discernible in the cool glow that reflected on the pristine snow shining like thousands diamonds.  

Savoring the peace and quiet, he traversed the open expanse briskly content in his knowledge that after the unexpected meeting earlier one, Dick was safely tucked in his own bed for the night. Which was a true blessing considering that after escaping the freak blizzard and shaking the initial scare off, the boy could not shut up about the whole affair, retelling it several times to poor Alfred with such enthusiasm that inadvertently he managed to knock over his porridge spilling it all over the table. That proved to be too much for the stoic butler who in no-nonsense tone ordered the boy to wash and go to bed.

Corners of his mouth lifting wistfully he chuckled recalling many similar scenes from his own childhood. Come to think of it, he was certain that if Alfred decided to use that tone on him again he would obey without questions.  _ Good he has another boy to look after,  _ Bruce though with no small amount of gratitude and a modest dose of smugness considering how he came to be with them.

Snow crunching under his feet he entered the Oak wood that was planted by one of his many great - great grandfathers or was that an uncle? He couldn’t quite recall. Following the winding path he strained his numb ears seeking noises that did not belong finding only perfectly natural ones; a rustle of branches on the wind, a crackle of wood under the heavy load, a thump when a portion of a drift shifted plummeting to the ground.

Arriving at the site where he last saw the colorful bird and where he was surprised by the woman who appeared and disappeared in a flash, leaving behind a minor discomfort in his sternum and an abundance of embarrassment, he flushed. Bested by a tiny female with a mass of chestnut hair that contrasted with patches of peach skin.  _ Hmm. _ He went over the recollections again with furrowed brows. No one should be out and about without winter clothes on and yet he distinctly remembers curly tresses brushing over bare arms when she turned around in a swish of dark cloth he failed to grab in spite of or due to it swaying easily on the wind. It was dark in colour, light and potentially luxurious although he couldn’t be certain without touching it.

Going around the location in widening circles, he looked for something, eyes jumping between the broken branches that were spread all over and the white blanket covering the ground. The problem here was that due to the earlier snow storm he couldn’t really believe anything he was seeing. There weren’t any footmarks, human or otherwise, and everything that was out of order could be easily attributed to the force of nature.

Looking at the watch he was reminded of the other bit of business he had to wrap up before the end of the night. Just because crime rates were lower in winter - apparently criminals didn’t like working in cold same as any other human being - didn’t mean he could slack for a day. No, he had to complete his patrol, reminding every thug and crook he was there watching, looking, hunting them.

Clenching his jaw in annoyance he turned around, his brisk trot turning into a jog while he run in the opposite direction following one of the shortcuts to the bat cave. He wasn’t happy about leaving the case that touched his home unsolved, the potential of the unknown and therefore danger sitting ill with him but he was certain that Alfred would handle any trouble that came his way.  _ And anyway, I am going to solve this _ , he swore under his puffing breath, a smile of anticipation splitting his face when a rustle of wings stopped him in his tracks.

It could have been anything, an owl, a mockingbird or a nighthawk but he didn’t think so. The sound was too soft to belong to one of the bigger birds and anyway his gut said otherwise. And he trusted his gut.

Tiptoeing slowly, one step at a time mindful of the crunching snow and the twigs he moved forward at a snail's pace while catching pieces of conversation carried on the wind. 

Straining his ears he was rewarded by a thud as if someone dropped from a high distance. “...n’t see...thing...tops. W...t about you? Any... ” a female asked.

A bird flying away or towards her interrupted and then a distinctly different voice answered.  _ Male? _ Almost, although something was off about it. He couldn't put his finger on it but it wasn’t right. “No...much.”

There was pause there now. Disappointment he suspected. “Do y...thi...should try as well?”

Noticing the sounds carried better as he neared closer, he took extra precaution while he moved “Might as well si... we came all the way bac... check” the flutter of the wings swallowed most of the response allowing him to hear the last three words spoken in feminine tones “it can’t hurt” before rippling textiles drown other noises.

And then silence. 

After a minute or two waiting he surmised that the pair has left so he hurried where the voices came from dropping all pretense at stealth. When he came to the crescent shaped glade there was no one there however he was certain he found what he was looking for. 

The fact that he spied a tiny azure plume was a clear indication however it was the abundance of steps that truly convinced him. Why they were present only here as if the two appeared out of thin air and why he could discern toes and other fingers as if they walked barefoot he didn’t know but would find out.


	4. Chapter 4

One moment Bruce was deeply asleep, then in an instant he was startled awake by a jarring rustle of thick damask curtain and a beam of sunlight to the face. Obstructing its path with a satin sheet and a hand he whined “Bats are nocturnal.”

“Bats may be. But even for billionaire playboys, three pm. is pushing it.” Alfred riposted in a sensible voice while placing a silver tray with light breakfast on a chair next to the bed. “The price for leading a double life, I fear.” he added not unkindly.

Untangling from the bedding Bruce cast it aside in one decisive move before planting his feet flat on the rug. Leaning forward he propped elbows on the knees to better rub his face ridding himself of the lingering drowsiness.

Standing up he swallowed a green smoothie in one gulp, the movement popping his bones and pushing him to discovered and re-discovered tender areas undoubtedly sporting one of the less attractive colours that came with the newly created blemishes.

A poignant silence, heavy with displeasure and something else fell while Alfred studied numerous wounds and scars, some of them still fresh and swelling while others slowly faded in greens and yellows. “Know your limits master Wayne.” the guardian cautioned.

“Batman has no limits.” Bruce brashly responded before dropping to the ground with a loud inhale for pushups. One, two, three...

“Well, you do…” Alfred warned further his voice gradually weakening until he plopped down on the opposite chair gapping in stunned silence.  

Unsettled by the odd pause Bruce jumped to his feet studying the sitting body with brows wrinkled in worry. “Is everything alright Alfred?” he inquired tentatively leaning forward unsure what to do.

Focusing his gaze with rapid blinks, a smile split the elder man face before he hurried out of the room and then immediately backtracked palms open as if to signal there is nothing to fear despite his flustered state “Wait here master Wayne.” He ordered disappearing behind a jamb. Few knocks later he returned hurriedly carrying a rectangular shape.

Why he decided to bring the monstrosity of a mirror that was purchased by one of the great-great aunts that wasn’t moved from its spot in the hall in the last hundred years Bruce didn’t know but it certainly didn’t alleviate his uneasiness. Glittering eyes didn’t help as well.

“Here master Wayne.” Alfred pointed to the spot on the rug. “Face towards the vanity desk if you would.”

Exasperated, he crossed his arms but followed the instructions nonetheless. “What am I looking at?”

“Your back master Wayne. Your back.” the butler eagerly instructed.

Staring into the smaller mirror that reflected the picture from the bigger one where all of his back was visible he frowned in confusion not really sure what he was supposed to look for but then he saw it and the world as he knew it broke and realigned anew.

Taking a step back, almost colliding with Alfred, Bruce shook his head in denial “That’s not possible.”

“And yet it is.” the elder man assured, face beaming in joy.

“That’s not how it’s supposed to be.” Bruce repeated under his nose.

“That’s  **exactly** how it’s supposed to be.” Alfred countered, his voice gentle and yet strong.

Lost, confused, the younger man dropped to the bed and hid his face in the palms before looking into the eyes of the one person that was always there when he needed him “I am not markless anymore.”

“No, you’re not master Wayne and it gives me hope because somewhere, someday you’ll meet your soulmate and considering when your mark appeared you have many years before that happens.”

Recalling the words that were etched, in bold, curved letters close to his lower ribs Bruce’s brows wrinkled.  _ Why does it feel like he already met the person who will say these words? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're curious how Bruce room looks like, please watch Batman begins. There is a scene when Bruce says "Bats are nocturnal." and it happens in his bedroom. This short chapter is actually inspired not by one but two scenes from Batman. The other one is from the Dark Knight. 
> 
> On a completely different note I am quite surprised that no one asked what Draíocht or Daithi means but maybe you simply googled it to find out :) Darcy name also has a clear meaning considering who her father was.


	5. Chapter 5

“When I saw your soulmark appear that’s not exactly the effect I was hoping for master Wayne.” Alfred chided while tying off the final suture on a deep laceration that was followed by a dressing. Straightening up with a grimace he slid his glasses back inside the leather case. “I didn’t think you’ll take it as a license to throw away caution altogether.”

Slipping on a white shirt, Bruce turned around on a stool sporting a crooked smile “She will have me, scars or no scars.”

“I’m certain a soulmate that’s not a cripple will be much more appreciated.” Alfred called out after the retreating silhouette.

Adjusting the knot on the tie Bruce consulted his watch and speed up. _He’s got enough time to take a hike in the wood._

It had become a daily occurrence as he tackled the puzzle presented by the mysterious pair of trespassers however regardless of how often he went and how much he tried the quiet forest refused to yield an answer. _Maybe this time._ He hoped against all odds, snow crunching at his feet and fingers impatiently running through hair while he developed a flush on his cheeks.  

It started as a necessity that developed into a possibility which turned into... _a challenge_ . _Yes, that’s a good choice,_ Bruce ruled with pinched expressions after turning the word in his mouth.

Unclenching his jaw, he scanned the surrounding area with the same tenacity and attention to detail as the day before but the snow and the trees were undisturbed, unmarred by the turquoise feathers that baffled Bruce and Lucius alike. A parrotlet plume for all intent and purposes but consisting of tissue unknown to man generating a physics phenomenon alien to the world; radiating a kind of energy or field or creating a void or some such - the diagnose dependent on Lucius disposition.

Crouching Bruce observed the ground from the lower angle but even that did not allow him to see anything that did not belong, especially not the bizarre footsteps that he’s been hunting for since that first night.

Dropping the snowball that he packed while his face grew pensive his thoughts veered causing a sudden stab of anxiety is his gut. _It wasn’t a great moment for the soulmate to appear._

Alfred thought they had years to meet but something, and he wasn't really talking about his predilection for mature women, told Bruce he wouldn’t be that lucky. Tensing as if a colony of ants crawled on his back, he was reminded of **that** sentence. _No, he wouldn’t be that lucky,_ he decided crossing his arms.

_And it was stupid really!_ Between his Bruce Wayne public persona and the nocturnal alter ego he barely had enough time to look after Dick save a needy, attention seeking soulmate. _No, he had no space left for that complication._

Thus decided he tightened his mouth into a stubborn line and stalked out of the wood betrayed only by a furtive glance cast at the spot that he just vacated.


	6. Chapter 6

Taking the cup in a firmer grasp, Darcy swallowed a mouthful of the bitter coffee that warmed from inside stifling the pangs that tormented her stomach. Hurrying through the dirty streets, her hips swayed to the brisk tempo while she half-skidded, half-glided in a pair of trainers too thin to be a proper attire for late March.  _ Beggars can’t be choosers,  _ she sighed increasing the pace from an easy walk to a trot as she crossed the invisible boundary plunging through the less savory part of the city towards her temporary dwelling that had more to do with a dump than a proper home.

She tried to find one,  _ home that is _ . Disappointed by the fruitless search for the tear in the fabric of reality, she longed for the warmth of the hearth and the camaraderie of kinswomen that she’s known most of her life and while she certainly couldn’t fly over the pond to the Lake Enara in the far north she’s done the second best thing. She set out to the hidden valleys in Canada seeking the few who assuaged wanderlust by settling on a different continent.

Setting off with nothing but the garb on her back, the branch in her hand and a companion by her side she flew stopping only when necessary: to hunt, to gather, to rest. Merciless to herself and attacked by the elements she wasted away driven by the iron will.

Overcame by a permanent state of tiredness while her body cannibalized itself in a desperate bid to function she arrived to her destination, a barren land ruled by the fiercest predators unchallenged in their dominance, especially not by a race of mythical witches, that seemed not to exist in this world.  

_ Saying that she was disappointed would be an understatement,  _ she looked up blinking rapidly to disperse the moisture threatening to turn into tears. She haunted the plains, without destination, a turn here a turn there, dwindling until one day she had enough.

She was never particularly proficient in brooding and she certainly didn’t plan to become now so she picked herself up and returned to where it all started reasoning that when her friends will come to look for her that’s where they’ll end up. Ultimately it was this world, weird, twisted, dark version of New York city. It didn’t matter it was called Gotham and that it had a blindfolded statue of justice with a sword in one hand in lieu of tabula ansata her much more peaceful counterpart from her homeworld sported. It was the big apple and everybody knew the weirdness was pulled there as if by a magnet. One only had to open a newspaper and glance at speculations about Batman to know that.

Thus resolved she partook in the age old tradition of her people, namely blending in with the humans.

Turning her head reflexively she looked for the source of the sharp sound that startled her out of her musings. Pace faltering for a second she lurched forward with a pounding heart. Crashing with an obstacle that appeared out of nowhere she shrilled. “What the fuck?!” her eyes growing wide as they darted, assessing the situation.  _ It didn’t look good. At all! _

One person she could handle. Two would be difficult however the third and the fourth guy that came from behind the corner made it impossible. Or nearly so. Darcy Lewis didn't give up so easily.  

Jumping back she tried to single out the weak one, the little one, the scared one, heck even the fat one but their uniform smirks stupidly plastered to their faces suggested it wasn’t a coincidence that brought them here. Breath quickening she licked her dry lips.  _ Talk! She could talk. Bore them to death really. She was good at running her mouth off. She was doing that in her head now! _

Beaming as if she didn’t have a care in the world, she started in a voice brimming with confidence “Good evening fellas. What brings you here in this lovely evening? I myself am going to that charming cafe, just right the corner. Le Chat Noir. The one and only. They fix a mean cup of coffee and a heavenly chocolate. My  **fiance** will be quite worried if I will not turn up on time. He is probably looking for me as we speak so it would be really great if you could let me pass.” She judged the effect of the speech while controlling her breath, not too shallow, not too fast. They couldn’t see she was nervous, terrified to be truthful. Strategizing, she angled her body differently in case a fight broke out “I am certain my fiance will be glad to hear such  **gentlemen** as you came to check that everything is alright. Such stellar citizens.”  _ What is she talking about?!  _ ”I assure you there is no need to worry. I am perfectly capable of walking myself into that cafe so if you could...?” she made a step forward, emanating with all of her that she expected to be listened to and obeyed.

“Hey boss, we got ourselves a stupid one this time.” a gangly one leered sniggering maliciously.

Tensing, Darcy squeezed the knob of the cloud-pine stick until her knuckles turned white.  _ Fine. Fight it is.  _ She will attack fast, strong and most of all dirty. Anything to get out of this circle and to run far enough to disappear and fly away.   

The choice made she peered at the one who threw uncertain looks her way. The weak link who wasn’t sure he wanted to hurt her. Good. Maybe he’ll hesitate.

Taking a swing she trusted forward and drove it to the groin. Bingo. Now the other one.

Veering left she delivered a jaw strike but the guy had surprisingly good reflexes. He grabbed her weapon wresting it away.  _ Shit! _

A rattle, a bang as something dropped distracted the gang.  _ A chance.  _ In a sudden spurt of adrenaline she bolted.

Putting as much distance between them as she though sensible she leaned on the wall listening to the distant sounds of the fight. Spotting the small blur she hissed “What’s happening there?”

“They’re being pummelled by the Batman” Daithi explained gleefully, taking a wide circle over her head.

“Do you think I can fetch my branch?” she eyed the entrance to the alley skeptically.

“As long as you won’t touch anyone you’re safe.”

Skulking forward, she arrived at the scene when the dark silhouette barely discernible from the background inspected her wood at a close range.  _ What? Why? Life is so unfair!  _ She gritted her teeth in annoyance plastering herself to the wall just in case while the situation unfolded.

Touching his chin with the rounded knob, he looked pensively in the direction where she disappeared. Tensing, he turned around and was gone in a flash.

_ Why, oh why, did he take it?! _ “Follow him and see where he goes. Just don’t get caught.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kudos and comments. I wanted to add some brief notes to this chapter
> 
> Gotham and its location - I have done a bit of reading on where the Gotham is. One correct answer does not exist. As with many properties that existed for many years and spawned numerous versions in various media (comics, animated series, tv shows, movies, animes etc) the answer depends. My favourite one is that Metropolis represents the bright side of New York and Gotham the dark, seedy one so essentially they are the same city. Because there is no Superman in my world (and hence no Metropolis) I decided that Gotham = New York.
> 
> Timeline - I have not done any research into timeline when I wrote the first chapter (I simply wanted the story out there) but apparently my subconscious made a good choice when it comes to the season. At the end of Batman Begins, we see Bruce's birthday party, which canon puts around February. So Batman Begins ends in February 2008. In The Dark Knight, we see a snap of a security camera with a timestamp of July 17, 2008. The Joker reminds the Mob in The Dark Knight of a time before Batman, approximately one year previously. This gives us an upper bound on the time elapsed between Batman Begins and The Dark Knight of about a year. Most people estimate this to be about six to nine months, BTW. Bruce is 29-30 in Batman Begins and 31 in the Dark Knight.
> 
> Darcy arrives to this world sometime January 2008 and now it is sometime March 2008.
> 
> I know I messed up the timeline by adding Dick but I like to have a kid character even if he doesn’t do much. I believe that having that kid in the mansion adds a less brooding dimension to Bruce character (and maybe less self - centered one?).
> 
> Lady Gotham or the statue of justice was not invented by me. It is a statue that appeared both in comics and 1995 movie.


	7. Chapter 7

Dashing into the kitchen Dick dived under Bruce elbow. Deftly evading Alfred with a sidestep and a twirl he snatched the room thermometer with glee before a voice filled with mirth stopped him in his tracks.

“What got you in such a hurry?” Bruce closely studied the boy while buttoning up his dark woolen vest.

Raising up the protective pane of the welding goggles he probably lifted from the repair crew that toiled in the mansion’s wing recently destroyed by the fire, the part of the house that was certainly prohibited for him to enter, Dick shuffled his feet nervously before meeting Bruce gaze head on. Cheeks flushing he announced in that mixture of unabashed innocence and acute self-awareness typical for boys on the cusp of adolescence “I’m going to hunt for ghosts.”

“Any in particular you have in mind master Dick?” Alfred inquired with interest while presenting a choice of cufflinks stored in leather case for Bruce perusal.

“I dunno.” the boy shrugged before his eyes grew at the new possibilities “Are there any ghost in the history of this place? Some indian massacre or outlaw killing the town folk or a lady that threw herself from a window in despair. There must be otherwise you wouldn't ask” he ruled babbling in excitement.

“Indeed there is. One of Bruce great, great aunts who was born, lived and died in this very manor was so enamoured by the surrounding landscape it is said that she can still be occasionally seen walking the grounds or sitting under the apple tree shades.”

“Oh… so it’s not a bloody story.” Dick eyes dimmed in disappointment.

“I’m afraid not.” the butler confirmed while securing the clasp on the case.

Perking up Dick continued “Did she live near the attic?”

“I can’t say with any certainty but it is unlikely. Those days rooms under the roof were reserved for the servants.”

Nodding after a moment, the boy declared strongly “Then it must be a different one.”

Noting Dick pensive expression, so in opposition to his ingrained exuberant disposition Bruce continued the conversation spurred by a hunch. “Has something happened upstairs?”

“Oh yes!” he bounced foot to foot “I was looking for the-” the boy abruptly stopped cheeks burning before hastily resuming the story “It’s not important why I was there, the important part is that when I turned around the corner towards the western wing, I saw door opening on its own. I swear!”

“It was probably the wind.” always the voice of reason, Alfred assured.

“I’m not stupid” the boy murmured before reciting. “I searched inside looking for open windows, drafts from the ventilation, wild animals that could move the door but the room was empty. Nothing’s there. It must be a ghost.”

A flash of alarm crossed Bruce face before his face hardened, eyes locking with Alfred’s in silents understanding above Dick’s head. If it was him planning a break in into this house the burnt wing would be his choice for the entrance. While secured as much as possible there probably still were cracks and holes enabling someone fit and good at climbing access with relative ease. Provided one was not afraid of falling down and breaking one's neck that is.  

“Such research calls for special measures master Dick” Alfred placed hand on Dick’s shoulder blades pushing him towards the exit “Let’s see what we will find in master Bruce secret stash.”

Mouth opening and closing the boy muttered “Bruce doesn’t like when I touch his things.”

“I am certain that for this occasion he will make an exception.” the voice became fainter as they moved away from the kitchen.

While he didn’t know for sure who the burglar was and if there indeed was one something told him today was going to be the culmination of recent weird events: from appearing out of nowhere females, through late in coming soulmarks and inexplicable parrotlets plumes to never seen before, possibly pine, pieces of wood that had botanist salivating over. No, anything not connected to these would be a coincidence. And he didn’t believe in them. It all had to be connected.

Feeling instantly awake Bruce swallowed two steps at a time while he rushed towards his study flashing predatory grin. He had an intruder to catch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just returned from my (long overdue) holiday and have about 10 days left (now 9 really) until I have to go back to work. I promised myself I’ll write as much as possible during that time so chapters might be shorter but more frequent. I hope I didn’t jinx myself by writing that. 
> 
> One of my inspirations for Dick character (I never saw cartoons or read comics so he will be very much OOC) is baby driver - running scene and this chapter was written to the song from that scene. I just imagine that Dick is constantly in motion.


	8. Chapter 8

Running her fingers along the cream-coloured panels that were warm to the touch thanks to being wooden she roamed the first floor, tiptoeing on the polished marble and the carpets alike even though she was certain no one could see nor hear her.  _ Old habits die hard,  _ she snorted reminescenting the rigid training from her youth. While it was embarrassingly easy to move around humans, it wasn’t always them that witches fought with. Sometimes it were other clans. Besides being invisible to people senses required mental strength and even though most could do it by the age of thirteen there were occasionally situations when the ability to shield was temporarily lost to severe injury, sickness or shock.

Pausing in front of the oval mirror set in a golden frame, too richly ornamented for the modern tastes, but no less beautiful for that she run her hand through the tresses brushing away the curls before resuming her slow pace “Any idea where it might be hidden?” she whispered finishing with an exaggerated sigh, the only outward sign of her mounting annoyance.  

_ Bloody billionaires and their enormous mansions with hundreds of rooms.  _ When Daithi led her to the Wayne estate revealing it was Batman stronghold she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to laugh or cry or a bit of both.  _ Because… _ Apparently no matter in which reality you were, saving the world was the domain of people who could describe themselves as genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.

_ Well _ ....from what she gathered the latter three fit Bruce Wayne to a tee and while she wasn’t sure about the genius part she supposed when you had so many zeros on your account and a company specialising in R&D it didn’t really matter.

Lightly pushing the door she widened the gap smiling when no sound was made by the hinges. You have to grant it to the obscenely wealthy, they loved to keep their property well maintained.

Sneaking in she zeroed on the inlaid commode nestling next to the wall across the entrance captivated by the small trinkets and curiosities, especially one, a glass dome protecting very familiar turquoise shape. “Hello, how did you end up here?” she cooed teasing her lip with the tiny feather while pondering the enigma.

“Have you got something against shoes?” Darcy jumped upsetting the crystal that fell to the ground but did not break cushioned by a thick carpet. Heart hammering she turned and leaned against the surface staring incredulously at the male that was seated in a plush armchair at the other end of the room, slightly hidden in the shades created by spread curtains.  

Stalling for time, she swayed on the heels, looking at her wiggling toes before sinking them with obvious pleasure between the cashmere threads. Lazy smile splitting her face she looked from the lowered lids. “Don’t you love it when the sensitive skin on your your feet is teased and indulged by the soft wool?” she breathed in sultry voice hoping her poor performance will be taken for a crazy stalker rather than a scrambling witch caught red handed.

Watching his leisurely sprawled figure clothed in impeccably tailored suit she was startled by the intensely blue eyes. They were piercing her. It felt like he wanted to learn her, decipher her, to rip away all that she put between the world and her most intimate self.

Shuddering, Darcy swallowed moisturizing her suddenly dry throat.  _ He was dangerous. _

“I’m not sure what type of technology you’ve been using to become invisible to the human senses but I hope I won’t have to use it again.” he lifted the tablet that was stashed on his lap.

_ Oh. Of course.  _ She released the breath she was unknowingly holding back.  _ How funny _ , she stopped a chuckle before it could escape her mouth. He thought it was her who was using some kind of device while in fact it was he who uncovered her thanks to the build-in camera. Narrowing her eyes she realised mr. perfect and confident wasn’t infallible. Dangerous yes but not unbeatable.  _ Good, she had a chance. _

Eyes darting all over the place, she spotted the branch inconspicuously propped on the fireplace frame, mostly hidden from her sight but not quite. Mistake one. Once she gets a hold of it she will be free.

Beginning of the plan forming in her head she pretended to review the backs of the books on the massive shelves framing the commode while in fact she was slowly, few centimetres at a time, nearing the polished wood. Blood racing in her veins she licked her salty lips. “That depends.” she moved slightly to the left.

“On what?” he cocked his head to the side.

Muscles tensing she delivered in a high voice “Whether you plan to catch me.” Whistling she sprang forward while a ball of fury dove from under the ceiling, the small bird attacking Bruce and buying her precious seconds she needed to succeed.

Grabbing the stick she scurried back taking the first thing she found to break the window. A sphere made of volcanic lava.  _ How perfect.  _

Throwing the hardest she could she didn't wait for the telltale noise of a cracking glass but instead vaulted through the window. Pressing hands to the rims she swallowed the cry when the sharp pieces sliced her skin to the shreds and pushed herself forward. Holding the branch in a tight grip she focused with all her might on staying invisible. She was doing it so hard she missed her companion who exploded after her and the eyes that assessed its trajectory before disappearing inside the building in a rush.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I know Bruce in Nolan movies has brown eyes, since the day I have seen Bruce paintings/pictures done by Haining I cannot imagine him with other eyes than blue. This chapter is actually inspired but one of his pieces so if you are curious how Bruce looks like check the work out via following link: http://pin.it/079vSvG


	9. Chapter 9

Coat hastily thrown over he leapt above wooden twigs and branches wrecked by the gales typical in wintertime as he chased through the silent forest guided by faint light and his own familiarity with the route he has taken so many times in the recent weeks. It seemed silly to expect her to hide in the glade they first met but scared people rarely made reasonable decisions opting instead for the comfort of the well-known. Besides the blood stained shards suggested she was hurt and possibly losing blood.

Hastening up in the rustle of flapping textiles and puffing breath he strained his ears searching for the noises accompanying an escape: thumping steps, creaking wood or a moan of complaint.

“You have to pull harder.” male voice instructed in the distance to the accompaniment of fluttering wings.

“If you’re so smart you can try yourself!” the girl snapped grunting in strain.

Creeping closer he hid behind a trunk assessing the scene in front of him. Going by the number of crimson spots blooming on the snow, the wounds must be more serious than he first thought.

Reacting to the alarming squawk she dropped the silken streaks. Spinning around the clearing while the bird landed on her shoulder she scanned the area with eyes wide open “Show yourself!”

Facing her he stepped aside, coming out of the shade palms up and shoulders hunched hoping this will convey he wasn’t a threat.

 _"For fuck's sake!_ You’re like a dog with a bone.” she sneered lips curling with disgust. “What will it take for you to leave?” she gripped the stick tighter before brushing her fringe away with the back of the hand smearing a trail of blood on her brow. 

“I mean you no farm.” he assured, cautiously staggering forward.

“Stay where you are!” she warned, voice pitching high but stopping him in his tracks nonetheless “You want me to believe that?” she lifted her brow looking at him dubiously, her palm indicating the surroundings, the whole situation they were in with a half - circle.

“I just want to talk.” he placated further.

“Why?” she curtly asked before pursing her lips.

Frozen, his mind churned for the right answer. There were so many to chose from. He wanted to know who she was and why she had all these things that defied explanation mocking one of the most brilliant minds in the world. But most of all he wanted to confirm if she was _the one._

“You interest me.” he opted for the safe version of the truth. Not too revealing but honest all the same.

Humming, her shoulders dropped “Ambushing me in your house is a weird way of showing it.”

Feeling of contentment swelling inside at her relaxing posture, he riposted “You broke in.”

“You stole my possession first.” she fired back without hesitation.

Piercing each other they were at an impasse until Bruce stepped aside “I apologise. Let me make it up to you by taking care of your wounds.”

“Very well.” she acquiesced with some reluctance “But at first sign of something weird I’m out of here. _Capiche?_ ”

Twinkle of satisfaction shining in his eyes he requested with a flair “Ladies first.”

“So you can have a drop on me?” she eyed him skeptically “Keep dreaming, dude.” 


	10. Chapter 10

Traversing the forest through shortcuts and paths only known to little boys who spent every summer of their childhood uncovering the wood’s mysteries, Bruce lead the little party to the mansion, arriving at the back door in no time and to the great consternation of Alfred who welcomed him at the entrance. Frowning at the woman trailing behind he spoke in hushed tones  “I thought you went after the intruder master Wayne.”

“She’s the intruder, Alfred.” he passed next to him, dropping the coat on the nearest chair before rolling up the sleeves. “Can you bring the first aid kit to the kitchen?” he instructed while turning towards the entrance where Darcy maneuvered around the rugs holding her hands close to the chest.

Cheeks flushing on the pale skin, she murmured sheepishly “I don’t want to ruin your carpets.”

Waving off her worry he encouraged with a small smile “Don’t trouble yourself. Let’s get you fixed first.” He showed her to the kitchen where they found Dick lying on the table tracing flourished at a snail's pace. Clearly bored he perked up spotting their arrival. Jumping from the stool he bounced “Can I help?”

“Tell Alfred to bring tweezers.” without the need for repetition, Dick dashed out with a squeal.

“He can be a bit too much for some” Bruce explained apologetically while turning on the cold water. Grabbing her wrist gently yet firmly he guided the palm towards the pouring stream, the flow turning pink while it cleaned the crystals and the dirt from the wound.

“Here you go master Wayne.” Alfred placed the box on the counter. “Anything else?”

“Tea would be a good idea, don’t you think?”

“Certainly.” the butler set up a teakettle with Dick running underfoot and grimacing every time Bruce pulled a shard from the lacerations.

“Does it hurt when he does that?” he scrutinized the wound closer fascinated by the macabre.

“A little. It will be right as rain in no time.” Darcy grinned swallowing a hiss.

“What has happened?” Dick asked directing his big, innocent eyes at her.

Glancing about the room for help she cleared her throat “Um… I’ve had a bit of a... misadventure earlier on. Mr. Wayne was nice enough to offer his assistance.”

Taking this he nodded sagely “He is good with this sort of things.”

“Is he?” her eyebrow lifted while she followed from the corners of her eyes how he progressed with treating her wounds.

Uncovering his forearm Dick pointed at the red scar “This one I got last week when I slipped and slammed into the railing and this one” he babbled excitedly showing his knee “when I’ve done 360° flip with my skateboard but didn’t land quite right and this one” he lifted the T-shirt over his back.

“Ok, ok. I believe you” Darcy interrupted trying to keep a straight face but failing “I’m in the best hands possible.” _Ouch_ , she wrestled her palm back with a wince “Did you have to tie it off so tightly?”

“The extra pressure will help with the clotting. Besides the bandage won’t get loose.” he explained finishing with the other hand.

Inspecting the work, she made an attempt at fisting her hands but was stopped by the constraints. If she was in charitable mood she would admit, grudgingly, he knew what he was doing but she was not therefore she pressed lips together and mocked, each word like a sting of a wasp “Now that you softened me up by your gentle display and the adorable ball of innocence and worship I’m assuming it’s time for interrogation.”

“I think it’s a perfect moment for that tea.” Bruce corrected setting up the table in front of them.

Shrugging Darcy added a dash of milk and a spoon of sugar stirring vigorously before taking a tentative sip. The hold was awkward and would become strenuous later on but it offered a unique opportunity at distraction. Not to mention she could use it to stall for time to think her answers through.

Forcing a smile she steeled herself for the upcoming questioning.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently I didn't jinx myself and was writing steadily for most of the week which is yay but I'm a bit worried because the reponse is not that great. Does it mean I sacraficed quality over quantity?


	11. Chapter 11

Gritting teeth he tapped his fingers against the table. At first the verbal sparring, the careful dance, the tug and pull they have been engaged in was entertaining but the longer it went the more apparent it became that the girl, Darcy - a name it took him a full of five minutes to ferret out - was giving him half truths at best and nothing at all except silent smiles and misdirections at worst.      

It seemed that circling around topics was not going to work with her. _Bluntness it is then._

“How did you do it?”

“I’m afraid you have to be more specific, mr Wayne. I’m not exactly sure what you’re referring to.” she responded in a haughty voice that started to grate on his nerves, that actually turned them into dust by now. _What wouldn't he give to have the brash and sassy attitude from before back._

“Became invisible.”

“Ah, that...” she stirred the tea smiling mysteriously. Bracing himself his face pinched while he waited for the inevitable “It’s a natural born talent.” _Of course that what she responded with. Again._

“You seem to have plenty of those.” he bitterly remarked jumping to his feet and pacing in short spans.

“What can I say?” she needled further “I’m a woman of many talents.” she followed his mounting frustration from under her eyelashes with a certain amount of satisfaction. If she had to suffer the indignity of interrogation he will well damn share the experience.

“Can’t you give me a straight answer for once?!” he demanded in a strained voice dropping his hands on the table. Towering over her.

Rattled by the unexpected outburst she leaped turning over the chair. “Fine.” she spat. “I got all your hints and veiled references, which by the way were pretty lame and no, I’m not going to tell the world about your extracurricular activities. Believe it or not but I actually think you’re doing a wealth of good to this rotten city. So… with that now out in the open, can I go?” she crossed her arms, chest heaving.

Posture wilting he stared at her quizzically and intently for a long moment before reciting:

"It was the day the sun’s ray had turned pale  
with pity for the suffering of his Maker  
when I was caught, and I put up no fight,  
my lady, for your lovely words had bound me."*

“That’s supposed to mean something?” she complained nostrils flaring.

Eyes hardening he inspected her for any telltale signs of dissembling. “You really don’t know...” he whispered in wonder before listing “...symbolon**, bashert***, soulmate." Searching for recognition that was missing from her face he ruled in incredulous voice "It doesn’t mean anything to you.” 

Jerking back, the blood drained from her already pale face. Chin raised, she swallowed before challenging in a shaky voice. “And if it doesn't, what's then?.”

“Then, _Darcy with no last name,_ you’re much more interesting than I initially suspected.” he sprawled on a chair prompting her to follow his suit before resuming. “There is a substantial number of women, and some man actually, in this city alone that would kill to be Bruce Wayne’s soulmate. In truth there have been claims over the years but the joke's on them since I haven’t had any, until very recently, that is. Imagine my surprise when after 30 years of being markless I discovered a sentence in arched letters on my skin. The very same phrase you told me when you first spoke in the study.”     

Head bowed she gazed into the murky depths of the mug in silence. Still and unmoving for minutes.

“Well… do you have anything to say to that?” Bruce impatiently pushed.

Startled as if she forgotten he was there, she lifted her head starting cautiously “I think... I’ve had way too much of this delicious tea and need to go to the restroom. Can you point me in the right direction?”

Heart sinking he offered a weak smile before showing her the way.

It took him ten minutes to realise she used the old washroom trick to escape the mansion.

Cheeks burning he walked briskly taking a detour by the bat cave. _He had a name, a picture and a face recognition software to tap into._    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I apologise to any poetry buff for bastardising Petrarch’s Love Sonnets to Laura but this was too perfect not to use. It makes sense that in a society that developed with strong soulmate concept there will be a ton of art dedicated to it. I changed only one line swapping eyes for words. It is a miniscule change so I hope I’ll be forgiven. 
> 
> ** the closest ancient Greek word for soul mate I could find  
> *** as above but in Yiddish


	12. Chapter 12

Leafing through the copy of Elle that was in the café longer than most newspapers in the hospital waiting room Darcy grimaced at the titles featured on the table of contents: “How not to get crazy waiting for the soulmate” or “Ten hacks to meeting your soulmate sooner” or her favourite “The soulmate dilemma: stay or leave?” about the socially impossible decision to leave a soulmate when things weren’t working out that, in spite of being a reasonable and correct move, will change and stigmatize you for life according to the author.

Now that she was aware of the soulmate phenomenon it was attacking her from everywhere; songs, posters, broadcasts, movies, heck even a promotion in the patisserie around the corner offering free cake if you meet your soulmate for the first time there.

How she managed to miss such significant cultural difference with so far fetched consequences was a mystery to her even though, in all fairness, she had more pressing matters to tackle when she first arrived to this world. Namely surviving. While this reality wasn’t as dangerous as some places she visited in her youth - she shuddered remembering the thirty year’s war that devastated Germanic lands - the modern time offered its own challenges.

Identity for one. Or specifically identity documents she didn’t have and couldn’t present. Sadly no one told her to pack for dimension hopping on that accursed day so she arrived with the clothes on her back and... not much else.

Hurt, shocked and confused she went about the business of surviving with a single minded attitude that enabled her to solve her immediate problems and fulfill pressing needs: clothes, food, work and lodge in no time but left her somehow vulnerable, as the recent occurrence demonstrated.

 _Pfft, she is supposed to be bonded to that,_ she unfolded Gotham Metro that had a huge picture of Bruce Wayne leaving Opera House with the much admired and very beautiful russian singer, Anna Netrebko, at his arm. If to believe the newspapers he had proclivity towards stunning women, fickle nature and a tally of lovers mile long. No, she wasn’t interested in this man-child playboy, even if, as she suspected, it was a front for his more clandestine activities.

Besides, no witch would suffer losing her freedom. It went against their very nature! No, there was no place for him in her life. Not now. Not ever.

So resolved she collected the newspapers returning them to their proper place when a screech of tires pulled her attention. _You’ve got to be kidding me,_ she stared with the same fascinated horror people reserved for trains that were about to crash how Bruce got out from the sleekest car she has ever seen and made a b-line towards the café.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck. How did he find me here?_ She straightened the creases on her apron frantically considering merits and means to escape. _Damn, but she needed this job._

Rushing him inside she hissed after closing the door “What are you doing here?”

“I feel wounded. You left in the middle of our conversation with no explanation. What else was I to do but seek you here?” he leaned to smell the flowers she picked early in the morning on a meadow just outside the city. Pulling one out he shortened the stem and placed the vibrant cornflower in his pocket.

“You can’t be here.” she warned nervously looking towards the windows. Stopping him with a swift gesture when she noticed his opening mouth, she continued. “Even your reputation as Gotham favourite son won't help you in this neighbourhood. _Look”_ she pointed towards the street where people were gathering in groups, talking in hushed tones “your car is already attracting the wrong sort of attention. **I can’t have it.** ”

“If you’re worried it will be stolen, don’t be. It has the best anti-theft system. It’s not in mass production yet.”

“I’m happy you can lord over us normal humans with every little thing you possess but that’s not it.” Turning around she pushed him towards the exit “I can’t explain now but if you leave without a fuss I promise I’ll visit you.”

“When” he froze at the door refusing to go further.

“Soon” Darcy vowed in a whisper before she threw him out. Tracking his retreating silhouette, she shouted “And don’t forget to turn right at the second intersection. If you follow jackson road you will find the place you’re looking for mr. Wayne.”

Going back once he drove off, she sagged against the door sighing in relief.


	13. Chapter 13

Stuffing hands in the pockets of her latest find, a maroon cardigan with beautiful plaits, Darcy focused on the building emerging from afar while she followed the driveway, gravel scrunching under her boots. Now that she had time and ample light she could admire Wayne Manor to her heart’s content. It was a remarkable feat of Victorian renaissance revival mixing gothic and classical, and in this particular case also drawing inspiration from Italian Renaissance palazzo*, an odd choice considering the difference in climate - if anyone asked her - but it worked.

Pressing the button on the intercom that had sleek, golden plates and a speaker stylized as a flower which resembled more a piece of art or a device from 1920’ opulent era than an utilitarian tool, Darcy grinned. She doubted that when she said she will come soon it was taken as in the next twenty four hours but considering Bruce annoying tendency to disregard what’s proper for people of his stature to do, as evident by visiting a third rate café in the more dangerous part of the city, a stunt that could call too much attention to the place and her by proxy, she decided to act quickly.   

Besides, it’s better to catch him off guard rather than fully prepared.

“Good morning miss.” A solemn figure greeted, body blocking the entrance. “I’m afraid mr Wayne isn’t available.”

“Good morning... Alfred, isn’t it?” she wondered out loud “Mr. Wayne told me to be here so… here I am.” she spread her arms.

“That’s awfully early for him” he remarked dryly.

“Well, yeah... he urged me to come as soon as possible.” she repeated before offering with a sigh “Look, I don’t want to cause any troubles. He wanted me here so I came. If it makes it any easier I don’t mind waiting so stash me somewhere and let him know I’m here, ok?”

“As you wish.” he acceded clearing the path “After me, please.”

As suggested she was lead to a pristine drawing room overseeing the backyard or something of that nature as she wasn’t sure anyone was allowed to call a sea of neatly cut grass flanked by a wall of much darker wood that. Turning away from the window she roamed the room fingertips trailing this and that.

Strolling along the wall she was regarding the portraits with passing interest when her head twisted at the swish of opening door. Eyes tracking Bruce’s entrance she had to admit the casual clothes and damp hair that were sticking out in odd directions would make him quite  cute if not for the dark bags under his eyes and certain gingerness he was employing when moving about. It wasn’t readily apparent - he was that good at hiding it - but considering she knew what his favourite nighttime activity was she kind of expected it. She saw it many times with Natasha, Barton and especially Tony who wasn’t shy about showing his badges of valor. Not a modest bone in that one. Not at all. But it always made her a bit sad they had to suffer so, even if it was considered a standard fare for superheroes and, she now supposed, vigilantes alike.

Eyes widening, she turned back hiding her face. _You can’t feel for him,_ she internally berated.

“That one looks like a return waiting to happen.” she pointed towards one of the smaller pieces hanging from the ropes fastened under the ledge. “Is that why it was relegated to this forgotten room? So that no one would have to see this car-crash of a painting?”

Mincing steps Bruce stopped next to her “Whatever has poor cousin Robert done to you to deserve such cutting remarks?”

“Whatever has the world done to suffer such an ugly portrait?” she tartly responded.

“It’s not the best piece in the family collection but I’ve heard it’s pretty accurate.”

 _Ouch,_ she winced. “I guess he was destined for bachelorhood.”

“Quite the opposite.” Bruce smiled “He not only found his soulmate but managed to lead a very happy life with her. They were considered one of the happiest couples in Gotham of that time.”

Shrugging she reflected “For every Jack, there’s a Jill.”

“Yes, there is” he leaned forward, voice dropping an octave “Are you mine?”

Taking a step back her heart skipped a beat. _She walked into that one on her own, didn’t she?_ Crossing her arms she tried her best to ignore the intense blue eyes “Whether I am or not is moot. I’m not interested in you or your money or the drama. Quite frankly I find the idea of a destined bond abhorring and would be the happiest if we could put it all behind us and go separate ways.”  

Face turning into a mask he straightened stiffly. While she said exactly what he planned to do from the start - a roundabout example of how well suited they were, _oh irony_ \- the heavy feeling that unexpectedly took over his stomach suggested it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. Apparently he didn’t have as thick skin as he hopped and Darcy rejection affected him more than he thought possible. Which was irrational because his solution to the soulmate debacle was the same! But while in the light of his reasons it was perfectly understandable it didn’t explain why she was so averse to the idea.  

Curiosity piqued he nodded “That was my plan exactly.”

“It was?” Darcy asked flooded by relief “Oh, good. Does it mean I can go?”

“Not quite I’m afraid. That was my plan **before** you discovered my secret. Now I think we’re in position to help each other.”

“Help how?” she gave him a long, searching look.

“It will be useful to have someone who doesn’t require creative explanation why the evening has to be cut short.”

“So in the old tradition of aristocratic families you need a front. Just this time it’s not a gay lover you’re hiding but the other _thing_. Ok, I get that. The part I’m still missing is where it benefits me.” she pointed with both fingers towards herself.

“Name your price.”

“Umm.” she pondered for a moment tapping her chin “I know. What about leaving me alone?”

“Darcy” he started in a gentle voice “I doubt you work where you work because you enjoy the atmosphere. Let me solve some of your problems with the money you’ll earn accompanying me to galas, parties and other social obligations. After a week with me you’ll be able to escape that part of the city. Doesn’t it sound good?”

It did. It sounded so good and she wanted it so badly. Not to be afraid when she was going out or wondering if someone will try to break in when she went to sleep. Alas she couldn’t. In shaky voice she declared “I can’t.”

Always stubborn Bruce demanded sharply “Why?”

Avoiding his eyes she pulled at the cardigan threads “People will start asking questions. Wonder who this chit that is regularly at the arm of the most eligible bachelor in Gotham is. They will look into my past. I can’t afford that.”

Fingers tapping at his thigh he asked alarmed “And that’s a problem because?”

Wetting her mouth with a tongue her mind churned. Although she never observed it firsthand he must be a man of a strong moral code and conviction to do what he does. She doubted he would deliberately hurt her. **But**. She mangled her lip between teeth.

Palms growing clammy she took a chance. “Let me phrase it like this... Did you find anything about me? No? _What will happen when other people notice the same?_ ”

That was true. In spite of his considerable resources the only thing about her he was able to unearth was her current location and even that didn’t come easy. There was a big mystery in Darcy past which he planned to solve. “Tell me this one thing. Are you a criminal?”

Recoiling she shrieked hotly “What?! **_No._ ** ”

“Then I’ll get you papers and fake past.” he announced matter of factly “Any preference towards the name?”

Glancing about hesitantly she mumbled “Darcy Lewis if possible.”

“Is there anything else you require for this to work?”

Realising for the first time that yes, this might actually work her eyes ignited. Bouncing back and forth she babbled quickly “Right clothes for the occasions, gowns, dresses, pantsuits... actually I need to know in advance where we’re going so I can have the right ensemble at hand. And shoes, so many shoes but also cosmetics and a bit of jewellery. I can’t imagine showing to a high profile gala without a necklace and a bracelet or two. We also have to establish some rules, you know discuss my role and our expectations concerning the arrangement, how frequent you’ll need me, payment and all that jazz.”

Watching Darcy enthusiastic response he wasn’t sure anymore he knew what he got himself into and if he had any illusions with regards to that they disappeared when she laughed deviously “We will have so much fun trolling people.”

Chuckling involuntarily at her earnest glee he was surprised to discover that he was pleased at the prospect of having some fun with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I did not invent this description. It is true for the Mentmore Towers, a building used during filming Batman begins.


	14. Chapter 14

Sitting on the weathered bench, the paint peeling in flakes, Darcy regretted she didn’t bring Gotham Gazette. The articles would be a welcome distraction but the whole arrangement, a meeting in a park on a winter early afternoon, reminded her so much of 1960’ bad, cold war spy drama, the newspaper would push her from slightly amused to hysterical laughter in a flash. The fact she did check under the seat for any affixed packages didn’t help her either. _What could she say?_ Bruce was very specific with regards to the meeting point. And she had to admit it was a good one. Being tucked away from the main pavement ensured there was sufficient amount of people to make her and Bruce presence normal but not enough to create a crowd minimizing the chance of being recognised.

Besides it offered a good view of the surroundings enabling her to admire the scenery to her heart's content. Take for example this sexy biker who was cutting through the grass, dark denim clinging to him like second skin emphasising his powerful thighs that flexed with each step. _Yummy_ , Darcy appraised barely stopping herself from licking lips while her eyes wandered north. The peeks of plain t-shirt flashed from under his biker jacket doing to her things that no top had any right to do but the contrast of the black leather and white cotton hugging his form so deliciously was so simple it almost made it wicked. And she loved a bad boy.

Overall he had everything she liked in a man, wide shoulders tapering to a narrow waist and long, powerful legs that added to his impressive height. He certainly would tower over her but considering she was 5 ft 3″ it wasn’t much of a feat anymore.

If he had a face that matched the rest of the body she could die happy. Not really. But she wanted to know anyway, for science as Jane would say, so she focused on his progress like a hawk on a prey, registering sharpening contours with rapt attention; strong jaw, pink, supple lips that in spite of not being very full promised naughty things, sharp cheekbones and the eyes. _Oh, the eyes_! The ice blue gaze that pierced you to the core.

_Wait,_ she took a double take, gaping in stunned silence. _Shit._ She knew that dangerous gait. A wolf patrolling his lands, relaxed but ever watching, ready to pounce and rip you apart at slightest provocation. Schooling her face into a polite mask she crossed her hands demurely. She couldn’t believe she had **those kinds** of thoughts about Bruce Wayne, her soon to be employer whom she will be regularly accompanying to all things fancy. Playing his... what? Girlfriend? Love interest? Convenient flavour of the day? Who knew. But it would be better for all parties, especially her, if she nipped this ill advised attraction in a bud. It was a professional arrangement. _Professional,_ she chanted hoping to erase the last five minutes.

Problem was, once you saw... Once you recognised that cocktail of traits that turned a perfectly normal person into a sexualy desirable specimen it was impossible to deny. Like a fruit of knowledge offered by the snake to Eve in the garden, once consumed it couldn’t be taken back.

_But damn, she will try._

“This contains everything you’ll need to start your life anew.” He dropped a reasonably thick folder between them sprawling comfortably, face displayed towards the sun while she rummaged through the contents.

Opening the navy blue book she leafed through stopping at the picture “Wow. How did you get it? Some kinky surveillance method?” Almost facepalming she flushed. Why did she have to say kinky? _Oh why?_

Opening eyes he looked at her “I’m sorry about the surname.”

Confused she took another look at the details “You know, I didn’t really expect you to succeed. The fact I’m still Darcy is pretty impressive. I can’t imagine how difficult that must have been.”

“Pretty difficult” he hummed leaning towards her “Why Darcy?”

Studying his eyes opened in genuine interest she was kind of flattered by the undivided attention. An involuntary response she was sure that was slightly distracting and more than a bit annoying. The answer couldn’t really hurt her though.  

Tilting her head to the side, she smiled fondly “It was my father's idea. His people were fairly uniform: green eyes, pale skin, fiery hair and then enter me who took as much after him as my mother with the peach skin and chestnut tresses, although at that time there wasn’t much of that going on, I was told.” she chuckled ”Darcy means “the dark one”. Very apt, don’t you think?” She faced towards him.

“If a bit unusual.”

“Tell me about it. If a had a penny for every time people assumed my mom was Jane Austen fan I could probably rival your fortune or at least be comfortably settled somewhere on the coast.”

“About that. How close are you to sorting everything out?”

“Not close, why?”

“I need you to come with me to a theater premiere today.” a note of steel entered his voice.

And the comfortable chat was dead and gone. Did he really think she will drop everything and run to him at a snap of his fingers?

The confidence he was oozing suggested that yes, he was. Boy he was for one, big surprise.

“No.”

“No?” he repeated as if he couldn’t believe what he just heard.

“Look Bruce... I agreed to by your escort. A platonic one.” she quickly added “But I want to do it well so no one will have any doubts I belong in the high - class crowd. There is only one chance to make a good first impression and if I mess it up no one will take the story we're trying to sell seriously. So you will give me the time I need.” She snapped the folder shut and rose.

“I will?”

“Yes.” she boldly confirmed walking away. Almost out of range she twisted throwing above her shoulder “I’ll give you a call.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the last of it for a while as I hit a bit of a writing block. Good news is we are somewhere in the middle of the story and I have some future chapters drafted. The bad one is I have no idea (yet) how to get from point A to point B where I want to be in about 6 chapters. Against my better judgement but because this is an unfinished story I have put a ? in the number of chapters. I hope I didn't jinx myself with this and there will be next update sometime this month.


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